The Necromancer's Fury
by The Karlminion
Summary: When all your kin are lost, what is left but revenge?
1. Prologue: Death of Family

_This is my first Diablo fic, so have a little mercy, ok?_

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**_The Necromancer's Fury  
Prologue- Death of Family  
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Guildain stood over the body of his brother, Faldain, and wept.

He wept for the lost future, for the death of hope.

Most of all, he wept for himself, for the things he would now have to do. Revenge was never an easy thing, but when it came to the Prime Evils, well! Therein lied the court of the nigh impossible.

For it was Diablo himself who had done this. When the body of Tashia, the Rouge Sister who had originally killed him beneath Tristram, had failed, his spirit had gone forth in search of a weak-minded person to take over. Fate would have it that the nearest opportunity was Faldain, younger brother of Guildain, both of whom were Necromancers.

The two brothers had always looked out for each other, but that time was different. Guildain could not accompany his brother this time, for the younger man was on his final trial. The Masters had chosen an appropriately difficult task; go to Tristram, discover what had transpired, and, if possible, bring back the Soul Stone. He had done so, but the manner of the doing was not what they had anticipated.

Guildain himself had been forced to deliver the final blow that had ended his brother's torment. Naturally, Diablo had tried to take him over. Naturally, he had failed. For Guildain had prepared against such invasion with strenuous mental exercise and training. Midway through, he had discovered a fortunate side effect; with mental fortitude came mental powers. He had forsaken his combat training in order to explore this new avenue of exploration, and he was now glad he had done so.

But the price was steep. His body had withered, his reflexes had slowed. He was forced to discover ways of manipulating his body with his mind, to no avail. Therefore he had to tread a fine line, balancing physical recovery with psychological exploration.

Now, as he stood over his brother's dead body, he was thankful for the strength of mind he had obtained, for he had been able to throw off the assault of the demon lord. But just barely.

And, as he took stock of himself, he realized that it had taken more than just his mental abilities to fight off Diablo. He could not feel his power at his fingertips, as he had always been able to do. In fact, he couldn't feel it at all! Years of training in the arts of death, gone down the drain in but a few moments! He would have to start over from the beginning if he were to have any chance of success in this quest for vengeance.

A great rage filled him, his body shaking with the force of it. He vowed then and there, in the name and presence of Rathma, that Diablo would fall for what he had done!


	2. The Beginning

_**The Necromancer's Fury  
**__**Cht. 1- The Beginning**_

Guildain stood before the assembled Masters, having just told his tale. He was nervous and sweaty, for it had taken long to tell it. And some parts were particularly harrowing.

One of the Masters leaned forward, his green eyes gleaming. "Fascinating, young Journeyman. But what is your point?"

Our hero was vaguely shocked; he had thought it would be obvious. "Forgive me, Masters. I wish to leave on a journey of revenge." Now _they_ were the shocked ones.

"How? How are you going to avenge your brother, young knave, considering who it was that killed him? Will you kill yourself?" Derisive laughter from the younger Council members. Young being relative in this case; one had to be at least 70 years old before the Grand Masters would even _consider_ you.

Guildain's rage flared briefly. "You know whom I mean to take revenge upon! Diablo, the Lord of Terror! The one who literally drove him out of his mind! The one who possessed him!

"Not that you could stop me even if you tried. For I have already sworn myself to this quest in the presence of Rathma himself!"

Such impertinence, under other circumstances, would surely have gotten him thrown out of the Order. Due to the gravity of the circumstances, and the circumstances themselves, the Masters merely sat and looked stunned. Save for one: Master Amara.

Amara had been Guildain's teacher, the one who had taught him the intricacies of the Necromancers' hidden dagger-based martial arts. She had dealt with him patiently for years, in the end turning the sniveling wretch he had once been into the coldly efficient warrior-mage they saw before them.

Poisons, bone spells, ripostes and parries. All these things passed from teacher to pupil during those years, long ago. And now she leaned forward, looking at her former pupil with eyes that saw more than he had given away. Whatever it was, it satisfied her, and she leaned back and nodded. "Well, we can't really stop you, now can we? Outfit yourself, Guildain, and make your way to wherever you see fit to go."

Another of the Masters spoke. "No, we can do better than that. I know of a caravan that is headed for the Rogue's Pass. It is led by Warriv, whom we have dealt with before. We can send young Guildain to him with a letter, and he will understand." The others nodded. Amara spoke again. "My sister will find him, surely. I will give you another letter, Guildain. One to be taken to Akara, the High Priestess of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye." He nodded.

"Now go, and prepare yourself. You leave tomorrow."


End file.
